The Wanderer
by Thegroundsnail
Summary: She had traveled Middle-Earth for nearly eighty years and only now does Gandalf the Grey finally hear about her, asking her to join the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. But the dwarf king hardly thinks that a woman should be coming along, as just to protect them? However, her family and her past hold secrets that may just get him his kingdom back.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The Request

This is the story of a young woman who wandered, never stopping in one place for long, never making any allies or friends; trekking throughout the day on the back of her horse, camping against his side at night, staring into a crackling fire and eating that afternoons hunt. Her eyes had seen more than the oldest man, her ears had heard more than an entire towns' population, her feet had trodden on many aground yet she still yearned for more. She had worn the same clothes for weeks; her hair had only seen river water; her skin had been dyed olive by the sun, dotted with scars from battles with mountain lions and bears; her hands were permanently gloved for use of her bow and arrow, her only means of defense. Naturally, her senses were keen; her wide eyes sought even the tiniest movement, her elf-like ears enabled her to hear like a fox. But after years of walking in the wilderness; she was lighter on her feet than even an Elf, her speed that of a pony at full pelt, her accuracy better than any dwarf in the country. And her sense of direction was too accurate to rely on; her vision at night more enhanced than a badger; and her skills with a bow and arrow was astounding. She could hit a moving target sixty meters away. Her bow was made of ivory, as was her quiver where she kept twenty arrows fashioned from redwood and other species of tree, with four eagle-owl feathers at the end and an iron point. She had shot something in every county in sight.

Except for the Misty Mountains. She had not set foot over those monstrous peaks, she hadn't even thought about it. Though she yearned to see what was beyond, what new land there was to explore, what new species of animals there was to examine, what new battle there was to fight in.

But she had not yet fought in a battle although she had watched from afar. She admired the strength of the victor, the cowardice of the enemy. Of course, she had battled with a stubborn bear or wolf, or at this moment, a nasty toothless landlord who had roughly slapped her behind instead of handing her a pint of ale. She had growled menacingly and knocked an arrow into her bow before the landlord had time to laugh with his bartenders,

"Lay your hands on me one more time," she said quietly, dangerously, "and it will be the last thing you ever do," the landlord turned his eyes inwards to stare, terrified at the point of her arrow, digging into the skin between his eyebrows. He waved a shaking hand to one of his cowering bartenders and a pint of ale was slid across the wood towards her open palm. She lowered her bow, returning it to her back and glared at the landlord. She did not thank him.

Then her ears picked up the sound of elevated breathing, coming from the back of the inn and the smell of smoke filled her lungs. She heard quiet murmuring, the sound of her name and the name of a mountain. She had not touched her ale, slowly turning around and spying the two speakers; an old man dressed in grey with his back to her and a heavily bearded man with several layers of fur laden on his shoulders. The bearded man suddenly caught her eye and leaned in towards the older gentleman, hissing so quietly that even she couldn't hear. He beckoned her over to his table with one flick of his head, dragging a chair next to him,

"Lady Farren, come and sit with us," the man said and his voice came as a surprise to her, it was young and strong yet his face was tired and old. She became confused as she cautiously joined the two men, sitting on the edge of the wooden chair. She wondered how this man knew her name, and why he used it in such a casual fashion,

"I heard you talking about me," she muttered quietly, "You said my name,"

"My, your hearing does live up to the stories," the elderly man told her with a smile, "'They say she can hear even the wind singing'," he recited with an airy tone and Farren looked down at her lap, taking a large gulp from her drink,

"May I introduce myself? I'm Gandalf the Grey," he continued and she cracked a hasty grin,

"I know who you are, I've seen you several times before," she replied simply, "But you, I have yet to know your name," she turned to the bearded fellow and noticed, for the first time, how small he was. It was rather odd, his shoulders were broad, his chin was square, his nose was long and his eyes were almond shaped; he looked like a regular man, expect he was maybe half the size. He was openly staring at her which, from the look Gandalf had given him, was not usual,

"This is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain and rightful king to Erebor," Gandalf introduce him instead, rather angrily, as if the subject of 'a rightful king' was frustrating. Thorin merely nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed deeply,

"I would like to invite you on a quest," of course, Gandalf knew which buttons to press and instantly, Farren's eyes lit up and her lips spread into an excited smile,

"A quest?" she asked, hardly containing her happiness for she had been aimlessly wandering for several weeks, not having anything to embark on. And to suddenly be asked on a quest? How could she turn down such a spectacular adventure?

"A quest to take back the Dwarf land of Erebor," Gandalf said quietly, leaning forward and seeing his reflection in Farren's wide and excited eyes, "To retrieve the Arkenstone from beneath the fire-breathing dragon, Smaug,"

"I have heard that you have encountered several dragons on your journeys," Thorin put in, also very quiet and she nodded, almost solemnly,

"My family were dragon tamers, we rode them and spoke to them," she explained, "It's in my blood to be with dragons," and Gandalf sat back in his chair triumphantly, sipping loudly from his tankard,

"Well then," he smirked, "Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield,"


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Meeting the Company

Gandalf had told her where to meet him and the fourteen others she would be embarking on the quest with; in The Shire, in Hobbiton. But he had not said which of the funny little doors she would need to knock on. Every one she had passed was perfectly circular and painted a very bright colour; sky blue, periwinkle pink and olive green. Each had a handsome and very shiny door knob in the middle, and a brass bell just to the side. Although only one had a glowing rune at the bottom.

She dropped down from her horse, Abe, and crouched beside the glowing rune. She stroked it with her index finger and instantly recognized it. It was the that Gandalf had told her about when she got to the meeting point, and it was written in her native language,_ linguam autem dracones_; the tongue of the dragons.

Farren stood up straight and gulped, rapping smartly three times on the door and waited patiently, wringing her hands together nervously. This was a foreign feeling to her and it made her feel rather sick to the stomach, her neck flushing and her palms sweating. She decided that she didn't like it and brought her hands down to her side, squeezing them into tight fists as the circular door opened slowly with an angered mumbling,

"There is no meeting here! We are closed - no more dwarves, no more wizards," the grumbling got louder as the door opened fully and Farren smiled at the owner; a young, youthful Hobbit with a head of blonde curls and a rather elderly scowl on his fair face,

"Hello sir," Farren tried her best to be polite, "I was wondering if - erm - if Gandalf was here," It was obvious to the Hobbit that this woman was not used to being around new people and he stiffly smiled, letting her duck pleasantly into his home. He gestured through a long corridor where, at the end, a bright orange light glimmered and a loud amount of laughter, chanting and chatter sounded,

"This way Miss -?" he said, waiting for her to continue and she took off her bow and quiver, setting it against a wall,

"Mirkwood," she replied merrily as they came to the end of the corridor,"Farren Mirkwood,"

"Ah! My dear girl!" Gandalf greeted cheerily, standing up from the scrubbed wooden table and shaking her hand warmly, then gesturing at the rest of the table. She stepped back in surprise, not expecting to be the centre of attention from thirteen bearded dwarves. Though she noticed one was not as heavily facial haired as the others, and she could actually make out the shape of his chin and jaw under the slight stubble,

"You must be the famed dragon tamer that Thorin has been talking about," the stubbly dwarf in question said excitedly, reaching across the table, getting butter on his sleeve, and shaking her hand. And for a moment, she was glad that she had her gloves on because suddenly, her hand was being shaken left, right and centre by every dwarf in the room. All except Thorin, who sat at the head of the table, his head reaching her rib cage, and his folded arms indicating that he was irritated by what his friend had said.

In a matter of minutes, she was ushered to a seat at the table, handed a steaming bowl of stew and a piece of bread, and was offered several pints of some sort of red liquid. She sniffed it questionably

"It's wine! The finest in all The Shire!" a red headed dwarf seemingly mocked the Hobbit loudly, and Farren later learned that his name was Bilbo Baggins, the widely accumulated thief. As the evening progressed, he somehow found herself doubting the Hobbit in having a career in burglary, watching him shouting about how old his mother's knives were and asking the dwarves through gritted teeth to 'kindly not trek muck all over his home'

* * *

"But he is only a Hobbit,"she told Gandalf later that night as they stood outside of the Hobbit's home, "You cannot guarantee his safety, you cannot even be sure he will return,"

"That is exactly why I asked you to join us," the wizard replied with a short sigh, "You must always have him in your vision, not only him; but the rest of the Company too,"

"I'm assuming that you will be leaving us,"she murmured, anger flaring up within her chest, "I'm afraid I am only armed with a bow, which will only defend us against a wolf or maybe a -,"

"You are an exceptional protector Farren, do not doubt yourself!" Gandalf raised his voice and half expected her to cower as the dwarves did when they mocked Bilbo,"You could transport a pack of one hundred past an army of Oarcs without them even smelling you. If you can go nearly eighty years without Sauron hunting you down, or even knowing your name; you are more than capable of undertaking this quest!"

He left with a victorious skip in his step, leaving the circular door open for Farren to return if she so wished to. But she didn't. She stayed with Abe in the field where all the rest of the Company's horses grazed, lying against his warming stomach, staring into the fire that danced shapes in her eyes and wondering what she had gotten herself into.

Certainly it would be the adventure of a lifetime and she would not have one as legendary as this again, so obviously she would go but these creatures were dwarves. Farren had seen many dwarves during her travels and had grown to despise them yet admire them. They all seemed to share the same stubbornness, one temper that seemed to get them into every trouble imaginable but they were brave, she had to admire them for that.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**_Setting off_**

Farren had been awake for not even an hour when she spotted a stream of fur-covered dwarves heading her way, chatting happily and laden in food and supplies.

"Good morning my lady," Thorin greeted her but it was obvious that he forced himself to say it and she nodded in reply, concerned that a violent argument would start out somehow if she were to even talk to him. Although the rest of the Company shook her hand once again, greeting her in a friendly manor and complimenting her on Abe.

"He's very large isn't he?" the youngest of the pack, a dwarf named Ori, asked curiously, "I mean, for a Man, or you even," Farren had to admit that he was rather similar to Bilbo, the Hobbit whom apparently had rejected the offer to come on the quest and she felt another sudden weight land on her shoulders, as another creature she had to protect.

She had been debating whether or not to slip away quietly and be on her way, wandering alone again but from the mysterious looks Gandalf was sending her, she had reluctantly veered Abe so they were trailing the pack. And Balin had insisted on bringing an extra pony, just in case the Hobbit caught up with them and indeed wanted to take part in the quest, so the tiny mare was tied to Abe's saddle and was trotting happily along next to the massive iridescent black stallion, tearing up grass and daisies when they passed a particularly large clump.

Then she heard the patter of feet, the hoarse panting of someone and the fluttering of parchment,

"WAIT!" a distant shout sounded through the trees and Farren called out to the rest of the pack, tugging on Abe's reins so he halted and she turned her torso around, spotting the familiar grape purple jacket and head of fair curls racing towards them.

"I signed it!" Bilbo said triumphantly and caught up to them, panting slightly and handed what seemed to be the contract from last night to Balin. There was a small silence as the elder dwarf read the contract with a crystal pocket glass and then smiled,

"Well, everything seems to be in order," he concluded, folding the parchment and hiding it away in his cloak, "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield,"

All but Farren and Thorin cheered happily,

"Give him a pony," he grunted and Farren fought the urge to roll her eyes at his dismay, dropping down from Abe and untying the chestnut mare, leading her over to the open mouthed Hobbit,

"No, no, no, no, that-that won't be necessary," he stuttered nervously, "thank you, but I-I'm sure I can keep up on foot. I-I-I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once-WAGH!" Farren had heaved a frustrated sigh and had grasped the Hobbit under his arms, settling him as comfortably as she could on the horse,

"This is Myrtle, play nicely," she growled and hoisted herself back on to her own horse, urging him onwards. Bilbo simply stared at her, firstly in embarrassment for he had never been touched so carelessly by a woman, and secondly in wonder because he had spotted two almost wing shaped traces of black ink on the back of her neck. Obviously it was a tattoo but he had never witnessed one on a woman and he wondered how she could've stood the pain, he had heard about tattoos and how they were applied,

"When did you get your tattoo?" he asked curiously before he realised what he had actually done and Farren, surprisingly, smiled at him and his desire to know about something no one really noticed,

"I was about seventeen summers old, I think?" she recalled, almost dreamily, "I was the youngest in the family to get one, and the last sadly,"

"What happened?" she didn't mind his curiosity but she noticed Thorin's eyes dart towards them with an air of – concern?

"We were ambushed by Night Crawlers one night in winter. I was the only survivor so I left, and I became a Wanderer," and she began to unbutton her surcoat, only three of the buttons at the bottom and revealed the bare skin of her waist where, Bilbo forced himself to look with red cheeks, a winding serpent-like tail was imprinted into her fair skin. He swallowed thickly and nodded, not being able to say anything,

"I'll show you the rest one day," and Bilbo suddenly felt sick with nervousness, suddenly realising that she would have to remove her shirt to show him her back, where the rest of the tattoo lay.

Farren laughed at his reddening cheeks and fell back behind the pack once more, patting Abe helpfully on his neck,

"We've got a long way to go my friend," she told him and subconsciously sent Gandalf a smile, but he did not return it.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR  
**

**_Remembering_**

She was so hungry, as was everyone else and they had been traveling throughout the day, so Gandalf had suggested they make camp for the night. Farren had ultimately refused to stop until she had food and Thorin had found her stubbornness angering, using several harsh words against her presence on the quest and she had fled down into the woods.

She wasn't upset, nor was she angry; she was just hungry and she turned to her wild senses when her stomach yearned for food. So she understood why Thorin became angry with her but sniffed at the words he had used, as if he had been waiting a long time to say them. He was rather pleasant when they had first met in Bree, when Gandalf had formed the Company and assigned her as his protector – oh.

Farren dropped to her knees in realisation, all thoughts of hunger gone. He was ashamed. He was strong. He had no weaknesses. And he wanted her to know that he did not need protecting. That he did not need neither her aid nor her protection; that he had other means of defense and that he did not even need to know her name.

But the Hobbit needed her protection, as did Ori and Balin, and Fili and Kili; and although they refused to accept help from a manor-less woman, they needed her to complete their quest.

She heard a twig snap not five feet away and within a split second, she turned, nocked an arrow into her bow, aimed and shot. There was a small squeal and the thud of something heavy falling to the mossy ground. Farren stood, replacing her bow on her back and carefully retrieving her arrow from the chest of her hunt. It was a young roebuck that had not been quick enough, and it had died instantly, from shock and from the arrow piercing its heart.

Farren did not feel pity, she did not know how to anymore, after so many years of being alone. She heaved the buck on to her shoulder and started back towards the glowing dot that was her and the Company's camp for the night.

* * *

Bilbo and Farren ate like clan leaders that night, the Hobbit asking for more of the fatty muscle and mint to chew on, the Wanderer oddly and politely taking the red cuts that no one wanted. She had informed Bilbo that a prize like their meal was very rare and then wondered aloud to the Company as to why is had strayed so far up from the lowland woods,

"Orcs," came the disgruntled answer and no sooner as the word had been said, a shrill scream echoed throughout the night,

"What are Orcs?" Bilbo asked and Farren cleared her throat quietly but Fili answered for her,

"Throat-cutters," he said darkly, "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them," and then his brother intervened,

"They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood," they turned to each other and laughed at Bilbo's frightened face. Farren glared at them,

"Why do you laugh?" she hissed, rolling the sleeve of her surcoat up to reveal a nasty purple scar that wound its way up her forearm, disfiguring her skin so it looked as though she had suffered many burns.

"Do you think a night raid by the beasts is a joke?" Thorin stood and moved towards the giggling brothers with a venomous expression,

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili stumbled over his words under the hard gaze of the large dwarf,

"No, you didn't," he growled, watching Farren as she stood to leave, his eyes never leaving her retreating back, "You know nothing of the world,"

As she left the warmth of the fire, Farren felt as though Thorin's last statement was aimed mostly at her and she felt a flutter of the dreaded nervousness in her chest. Of course, he was right; she knew nothing about what lay beyond the Misty Mountains and when they journeyed past, she would be of no navigational help. Then she realised, horrifyingly, that she indeed did not know how big the world was and how many terrifying beasts she had yet to come across, how battles she had yet to face, how many enemies made their path intersect hers and how many people she would meet. The fluttering in her chest became angry thumping, a beat only matched by her accelerating heart. Then her breathing turned to pants, her nervousness turning to panic, an emotion she was familiar with; but not to this extent.

She couldn't defend herself, not even Abe. Why did Gandalf think she could protect fourteen dwarves and a Hobbit, and herself? She suddenly couldn't see, her eyesight fogging as if she had walked through steam. Her breathing was harsh and her throat was stinging, as though she had been screaming for hours. She couldn't understand why she wasn't crying. Was it just the extreme panic that stopped her body from moving or was it because she didn't feel the need to?

Farren fell into a hallucination. There was a shadow standing before her, holding its hands above its head and ready to strike. But she was rooted to the spot, she couldn't even blink. She couldn't help herself, she couldn't protect herself. Her bow was inches from her fingers and she tried to wiggle them, but she instead let out an anguished cry. And the shadow wailed out her name.

She cried out again, snatching up her bow and pulling the string back, ready to shoot the wailing shadow,

"Farren!" a breathless Bilbo asked her quietly, his terrified eyes wide and reflecting her own face; a face of madness.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE  
**

**_The Saviour_**

Farren was humiliated, she was ashamed of herself for scaring young Bilbo and understood that he wanted to be as far away from her as possible, travelling with Gandalf at the front while she fought back tears behind. The rain could've camouflaged her tears but she let them burn her eyes, as a punishment for letting him see her in such a vulnerable state, and then nearly killing him.

However, he had told no one about what had happened. Not even Gandalf who had been sending Farren pitiful looks all morning, as if he sensed something was wrong. But nothing was wrong. She removed that night from her memory, like she did with anything that made her cry; such as the night her family were attacked.

_No, don't remember that,_ she scolded herself and flicked a piece of sopping wet hair out of her face, _not at this moment_.

They traveled all day, the rain stopping by lunch time and thankfully not soaking the buck fat that she had sneakily eaten while all the others complained about their empty stomachs.

"We'll camp here for the night," she heard Thorin call out from up ahead and she let Abe trot upwards, where the Company had stopped. But she did not get off him.

"Would that be wise?" she questioned the dwarf and he slumped his shoulders, too tired to argue,

"Are you going to be a nuisance about stopping here too?" he growled, still sounding dangerous although his eyes yearned for sleep,

"I agree with the lady," Gandalf said, emerging from within the ruins of what seemed to be a farmhouse,

"We should carry on to the Hidden Valley,"

"I have told you already, I will not go near that place," Thorin retorted and Farren hopped down from her horse, "

Why not?" she asked, almost innocently, "The elves could help us; we could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need their advice." Thorin hissed angrily, causing Farren to scowl deeply,

"We have a map that we cannot read;" she replied venomously, "Lord Elrond could help us."

"Help?" he spat mockingly, "A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father." Only Gandalf noticed Farren's eye flash gold dangerously, her hand reaching behind her to stroke her bow, as if that calmed her anger,

"You are neither of them," the wizard interrupted, "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep," Thorin said darkly and dangerously. Gandalf turned and angrily stomped off, back the way that they had come and Farren copied him, snapping at Abe who had attempted to stop her. No one called her back.

* * *

"He is the most frustrating dwarf I have ever met," she seethed several hours later, sitting upon a boulder and watching the sun set along the horizon. Gandalf stood only a few back, smoking a pipe and scowling,

"He has lost a lot," he replied simply and Farren hunched her shoulders, glowering,

"What? And I haven't?" she turned away from him and his sympathetic look, not wanting the pity, "He's lost his father and his kingdom; but at least _he has a kingdom_," there, her eyes flashed gold again, this time for longer and Gandalf noted how vulnerable yet deadly she looked.

They were silent for a moment and Farren stood, not baring being away from the defenseless Hobbit for any longer,

"I hope to the spirits that you return," she told him in a powerful voice yet her eyes were pleading, and he nodded, watching her leap away into the trees. She'd sensed something, something big and oddly not dangerous. Her ears picked up the sound of distant arguing and in a second, she knew that it wasn't the dwarves. Then the smell smacked her hard in the lungs, forcing her to crouch while her stomach convulsed uncomfortably. The scent of putrid, rotting and roasted flesh was closer than she anticipated and her feet seemed to lead the way, her head clouded and her eyes dreamy. But the three large shapes ahead of her startled the hunter within and she drew an arrow, squatting behind a tree and watching the three massive creatures stroke a large black horse, making funny mewling noises as they did. Her gaze turned to the fire in the middle of the clearing, noticing a roasting stick perched over it, covered in flailing arms and legs. And more heads seemed to be popping out of mouldy sacks in front of a pen full of chestnut ponies. Then she noticed one of the headed sacks hopping around on the spot, attempting to negotiate with the massive, hairless creatures that Farren recognized as Mountain trolls. And then she realised that the hopping sack was Bilbo and she tiptoed forwards, drawing her arrow back and taking aim at the back of one of the troll's head.

"And the dawn will take you!" came a battle cry and Gandalf appeared on top of a large rock, blocking the path of the rising sun and her brought his staff down upon it, splitting the rock and sunlight spewed over the trolls, causing them to squeal, dropping what they held (several sharp knives and sage) and attempt to run. Farren let out a cry, diving to the side, narrowly missing a rotting toe and a deafening snap nearly popped her ears drums.

The dwarves cheered as the trolls raised their arms to block the light of the sun, their white pasty skin slowly darkening to a grey stone, but Farren could only hold her cheeks in agony, staring down at her snapped bow.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX  
**

**_On the run_**

"I am sorry about your bow Farren," Bilbo seemed to think that it was his fault that she was in so much peril. She stroked Abe's muzzle and smiled stiffly at him,

"Hey, I can just make another," she was trying hard to be positive but that bow had been forged by her mother, the last thing that they did together and it was as if something had pierced her soul.

Bilbo looked ahead, standing with the woman at the entrance to the troll's cave where, surprisingly they had found several tonnes of elfish weaponry.

Farren had watched Gandalf persuade Thorin to keep a handsome sword and had given Bilbo a small sword of his own, but they had found no bow to replace hers. She was nothing without her bow. She decided to go deeper into the cave, holding her gloved hand over her mouth to muffle the smell of rotting flesh and vomit. It was darker, damper and it had a more dangerous feeling about it. Her eyes slowly grew accustomed to the gloom and the further she went, the more sinister it became. Skeletons of all shapes and sizes loomed on all sides, holding swords and shields in a desperate attempt to defend themselves. She saw more weapons and more treasure, more of the hordes that the trolls had collected.

Then she spotted the sight she would never see again. There, sitting peacefully yet like a king upon a rotting skeleton's lap, the sword which Farren had heard only tales of.

_Draconem Pilos_

_The Dragon's Blade_

Forged by her forefather's and passed down from tamer to tamer through the generations, this was the sword of all swords. It was nearly as long as herself as she plucked it up, the sheath was a simply leather brown with a gold buckled belt. But the sword itself was what Farren lost her breath over. It whispered silently when she pulled it through the air and whirled it down upon a dusted shield that lay at her feet...the shield cracked in to two clean pieces. The blade was smooth and shiny, an iridescent blue that shone millions of colours when the light hit it at the perfect angle. The hilt was silver leather with gold wire embroidered around it into a language that only the wisest knew, and sitting upon the pommel was the famed Blue Egg. Farren had only seen pictures and heard stories of this sword and its gem that protected its user by hiding them from any known enemies. An fiery red opal the size of an egg glistened against Farren's olive skin and she exhaled harshly when she ran her fingers over its cool surface. It was like caressing her mother's cheek, so soft and so silky.

The sword fit perfectly in her hand, like it was made for her and she measured its weight against her hips, where it would be sat; there was no weight. It lay in its sheath, waiting to be used against evil, waiting for its new owner to defend herself. Farren lay her quiver and broken bow down at the feet of the skeleton man, securing the sword on her hips and turning back towards the exit to the cave with a triumphant smile on her lips. She felt like she was complete once again, like she was finally finishing her training to be a tamer. She felt as though everything could be perfect. For once.

Except for the terrified yells that echoed throughout the cave. And Farren launched off, zig-zagging through and around the piles of armoury and shields, swords and boxes of treasure. She gave out a battle-like cry, bursting out of the cave and pulled her blade, bringing it down onto the neck of the large bear shaped animal. It was a Warg. The 'pets' of the Orcs and they were bigger than bears, more ruthless than rabid dogs, worse than a nightmare. Its head rolled across the ground, stopping at Bilbo's feet who shrieked at the amount of blood pouring out of its eyes.

Another one howled loudly, preparing to take down Farren herself and she turned around quickly, embedding the sword into its chest then thwacking it around the head with hilt. There was a sickening crack and the Warg slumped to the ground, quite clearly dead.

"Warg scouts," she explained breathlessly, adrenaline pumping through her veins, "That means an Orc pack will not be far behind,"

"Orc pack?" Bilbo squeaked from behind Farren and she smiled at him, a smile of victory and excitement,

"Yes, and I'll draw them off," she told the group, lifting herself on to Abe and fumbling with the fastening on her cloak, drawing it around herself more securely. No one dared to stop her as she dug her heels into Abe's shoulders and he raced off, weaving through the trees, bounding over rocks until they emerged, at full pelt, straight into the pack of Orcs that were so keen on following the Company,

"Come and get me you slimy bastards!" she shouted out in glee, the wind catching on her hair and tearing at her cloak. This was where Farren belonged, being chased by creatures that want her dead. It was exhilarating, the blood pounding in her ears, her chest heaving with pure rush.

She could hear the mangy howls of the Warg's far behind her, unable to catch up with Abe and the evil cursing of the Orcs.

She looked up to her right, spotting one of the Orcs veering off from the pack, bounding on to a rock and stopping, sniffing the air and growling. She took a risk and raised her right fist,

"_E__s mei, ne pereant,"_

"You're breath shall be lost," she shrieked in its direction and its hands immediately flew to its throat, as if it were being strangled by an invisible forced. It fell and the Warg squealed, as if it was being attacked, mauled and hit by something metal.

"THORIN YOU FOOL!" she shrieked, slicing into an Orcs shoulder as the pack stopped following her, instead chasing the fourteen dwarves and Hobbit that scurried away from the advancing creatures that snarled in triumph. They were surrounded in a matter of moments, all hunched together with their petty weapons pointing as several Orcs at once. Only Gandalf saw sense and burrowed towards a large rock, pulling Bilbo along with him,

"This way you fools!" the wizard shouted and the dwarves scattered, following to the rock and disappearing.

Only Kili and Thorin were left and Farren felt a surge of possessiveness, cutting down every Orc she passed until she was in front of the two dwarves,

"Go," she ordered powerfully, dropping from Abe and stabbing a Warg in the muzzle with her weapon. And then she was the only one left, defenceless against a widening pack of Orcs. Until a flash of bright silver flew across her vision and a handsome white horse appeared, shielding her from the bloodbath that continued between the Orcs…and now the Elves.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN  
**

**_Swords_**

Thorin, admittedly, had been increasingly concerned about Farren's well-being when they had settled in Rivendell. She had not been seen by anyone since they had left her to defend them against the Warg pack. Well, no one of his Company had heard any news of her and he refused to ask Lord Elrond.

He refused to talk to any of the Elves.

Yet he worried throughout the day as they collected supplies about her. He had not seen her get injured but when the Elven guard had returned, they had only brought Abe and not her. The horse had been unharmed and bore no sign of a bloody attack or death even.

He shivered involuntarily at the thought of her mangled body, the sight of her blood.

Then he was sitting next to Elrond at the high table, looking over Rivendell and eating his weight in chicken and other meats.

And then he saw her mischievous, icy eyes looking at him from across the table with that smirk that meant she knew something he didn't,

"You survived then?" he asked her drearily, acting as though he didn't care whether she died or lived and he saw her smile falter slightly,

"I'll always survive," she replied just as carelessly and helped herself to a chicken thigh and a handful of some sort of purple leaves. And when she stretched her arm out to pour herself some wine, he saw a large and angry gash on her bicep surrounded by a scattering of purple bruises. So she had been injured.

Farren has seen Thorin inspecting her wounds but thought nothing of it, he was probably comparing it to one of his terrific sword lacerations that he had received during battle, not defending fourteen lower beings.

_Do not think like that_, she scolded herself and took a large gulp of wine to prevent herself from snapping at Thorin who had found better use for his concentration, listening in on what Elrond was telling him about his sword,

"This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver," he explained wisely, "A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well," the black haired Elf handed the sword back to its owner with a careful smile, which Thorin did not return.

Farren reached down and stroked the Blue Egg of her sword, which lay beneath her bare feet. Funnily enough, when she had awoken after she was struck by a poisoned Orc sword, she knew her surroundings as if she had been living there for years. She knew where to go to find Lord Elrond who had been pacing in the courtyard below her healing quarters; she knew her temporary maid's name; she knew how she was healed and what was used. She felt at home and it was – odd.

"May I see your sword Farren?" Elrond asked kindly, his eyes soft and she obeyed, standing and trotting over to his seat. She handed him the bow and knelt next to him, feeling Gandalf's eyes on the back of her head and Thorin's on the front, "Ah, Draconem Pilos, The Dragon's Blade," he said with a twinkling smile, "Your own ancestors made this but I assume you already are aware of this?"

He handed it back to Farren and she nodded her head, sitting down and flashing Bilbo a small smile as he made to show Elrond his own sword,

"I wouldn't bother, laddie," Balin told him quietly and quiet mockingly, "Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war,"

"What are you saying?" Bilbo challenged with a small squeak, "My sword hasn't seen battle?" and Balin thundered a laugh,

"I'm not even sure it's even a sword; more of a letter opener really," he replied and went back to eating as though he was a starving child. Bilbo's shoulders dropped and let his sword fall back to his feet, feeling a strong grip on his shoulder,

"Hey, I'm sure your sword has seen many battles," Farren assured him, "Dwarves – tend to speak their minds a bit,"

"Right," he said with a scowl and folded his arms, Farren's brows furrowing in frustration.

It was clear to her that some of the Dwarves did not want Bilbo to accompany them on their quest, especially Thorin. And in a way, she did want him going any further than Rivendell and she was tempted to persuade him to stay in the safety of the elves. She did not want him getting hurt or killed even; she could not live with the guilt if anything happened to him.

But they were very alike, the Hobbit and the Wanderer. Thorin did not like either of them, yet everyone else did; Gandalf had requested them especially for this quest and they were both needed to complete it.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**_Durin's Day_**

Gandalf had demanded her presence when Elrond read the map; even when Thorin had given him the coldest glare he could muster, even when Bilbo made to speak against his decision.

"Farren has every right to read it," the wizard said calmly but with fiery eyes, "And, once she studies the map; she will remember every crease and ink line on it and she may know something about it we do not,"

Thorin opened his mouth to retort angrily but Farren had already floated out from within the shadows, her face pale and her gaze averted to the floor. She would not look at Bilbo nor Thorin as they proceeded into a moonlit courtyard where the High Elf stood, staring out upon his kingdom. He looked magnificent against the white rays; his shadow was long and curled around their feet,

"What is it you wish for me to see?" the elf said airily and Thorin took out the map, but did not show Elrond,

"Our business is no concern of Elves," he said simply, his stubbornness showing as his shoulders squared and Farren's lip curled,

"For goodness sake Thorin," she hissed dangerously, "Show him the map,"

"It is the legacy of my people," he replied, slightly surprised at her tone of voice, "It is mine to protect, as are its secrets," And the Gandalf made a noise of frustration,

"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves," he demanded, "Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle-earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond,"

There was a pause for Gandalf to regain his composure, glaring holes in the side of Thorin's head and the Dwarf king seemed to draw the map back into his cloak for a second, before holding it out for Elrond to take. He studied it for a moment,

"Erebor," he turned towards the group, "What is your interest in the map?" and Thorin opened his mouth again, intending to foolishly tell the Elf about their quest -,

"It's mainly academic," Gandalf interrupted with a side glance at the dwarf, "As you know, this sort of artefact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?"

And the moon shone on the yellowing parchment, causing Farren's lips to open in shock,

"_Lunaimbuit_," she whispered and the males standing before her parted to allow her through, "Moon Runes,"

"Of course," Gandalf smiled, "An easy thing to miss."

"These runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written." She explained quietly, taking the map from Elrond carefully as if she were handling a new born child.

"Can you read them?" she almost laughed at Thorin's question and nodded, not smiling at him.

* * *

Bilbo could not believe the beauty that had suddenly been thrust upon him as he exited the long tunnel that Elrond had been leading them through, so Farren could read the Runes. He had heard snippets of their conversation, but not enough to make out what they were properly discussing.

But he did not dwell on them, staring around him with awe struck eyes. They had emerged behind two waterfalls that fell apart so there was a gap for the moon to shine through on a clear night. There was a walkway leading towards a table that stood atop a magnificently carved rock, where all the rest were gathered around. The table itself was something of his imagination, Bilbo thought as he caught up, a round structure made of pure crystal that was a perfect height for Farren as she smoothed the map on top of it.

"These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve," she explained mistily, "by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago; the same moon shines upon us tonight," and they lifted their heads to look at the sky as one, watching as the grey clouds moved like ghosts to let the moon shine down upon them.

The white rays hit the table and it immediately started to glow, several lines of ancient text appearing in the bottom right hand corner. Farren ran her calloused fingers over the runes delicately before clearing her throat,

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole,"

Her voice was not gritty and plain as it had been; Bilbo thought she sounded like a pure Elven Princess who was reading a sacred text; Gandalf saw her eyes flash gold once more and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end; and Thorin hardly heard what she was saying, staring at her illuminated figure and watching her fingers brush each rune as she said it.

"What is Durin's Day?" Bilbo asked suddenly, his curiosity getting the better of him and Gandalf leaned on his staff with a smile,

"It is the start of the dwarves' new year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together," he told the Hobbit and Thorin's eyes were cast downwards,

"This is ill news," the king said kneading his eyes with his palms, "summer is passing and Durin's Day will soon be upon us,"

"We still have time," Farren reasoned desperately, refolding the map and handing it gently to Thorin, who hastily stuffed it in his pocket. Her brows furrowed, "To find the entrance. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time," she answered Bilbo's questioning looks, "Then, and only then, can the door be opened,"

"So this is your purpose, to enter the Lonely Mountain?" Elrond said, his voice low and cautious,

"What of it?" Thorin muttered gruffly, looking up at the careful elf who sighed,

"There are some who would not deem it wise," he looked over at the Grey wizard who had not said anything for a while,

"Who do you mean?" he nearly spat and Elrond began to walk away, back along the tunnel,

"You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-Earth," and he was gone, leaving Farren and Bilbo to connect equally confused gazes; Thorin to watch his retreating robes with thinning lips and Gandalf to look up at the sky in deep thought.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry this chapter is so late, I have exams coming up and i'm trying to revise aswell as write. Please be patient with my updates :) **

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE**

**_Leaving_**

Farren felt that she had disobeyed Gandalf; that she had lost his trust as she returned to her temporary chamber that night, hoping for a little sleep before what was to occur in the morning.

When the four of them had finally found their way back from reading the Moon Runes, Thorin had pulled her aside, his head barely reaching her collar and explained what they were planning to do at dawn,

"And all have agreed?" she asked quietly, nervously, "Even the Hobbit?"

"We are only waiting for you to accept," his words surprised her and she stooped slightly, her eyes in line with his,

"We – as excluding you I am assuming," she replied bluntly, "It rather obvious that you do not want me accompanying you,"

"Yes however, the Hobbit needs your protection," Thorin snapped and turned to leave, "We meet in the dining hall when the larks start to call,"

_Dawn then, you poetic twit_, she thought, watching his fur covered cape whirl around a corner and she heard his loud footsteps thump up some stairs, where she assumed he and his Company were sleeping.

Farren didn't even remember agreeing to coming with Thorin as she lay back on top of the silk sheets, fully clothed and her hair knotted from tossing and turning. He just told her the instructions and demanded her presence, only for Bilbo's protection however. And this made her feel useless, unwanted by even the Dwarf king. She exhaled in anger, sitting up and unlacing her boots, throwing them by the door and probably waking those who slept peacefully, unlike her. She needed the sleep, to be at her wits for she was going to enter territory that she had never trekked through, forests that she had yet to explore, and enemies she had yet to make.

The sheets felt like water as she burrowed beneath them, curling up and forcing her eyes closed; her brain yawning but alive with excitement.

Farren stomped on that excitement until it was only a flickering flame of hope, now only seeing blackness instead of the pink of her eyelids…

And she was awake again, her ears picking up faint movement from below her. It was time. Firstly because she could see the sun peeking over the mountains that framed the breath taking view outside her window, and secondly because only a dwarf would take such little care of how loudly he was walking.

She rubbed sleep from her eyes and straightened out of clothes, not bothering to brush her hair and tied her green cloak over her shoulders. Staring out across Rivendell for what she assumed was the last time, Farren fastened her sword to her waist, and disappeared silently from the room, as though she were a shadow passing through a wall.

* * *

"No, you cannot bring your horse," Balin told Farren firmly when she arrived in the dining hall and she opened her mouth to retort,

"I do not even remember asking about the subject," she snapped, "Abe will be perfectly fine here,"

"Let's go," Thorin's grumbling voice poked her in the back, ushering her forward, "You go first seeing as you have been everywhere in Middle-Earth, you can show us the way,"

"No I cannot," she side stepped him and folded her arms like a child, "I have yet to venture over the Misty Mountains, my knowledge of them are as good as yours,"

"What do you mean by that? You're a Wanderer, it's your duty to know everywhere, every tree and every mountain," Thorin seethed, his face turning a dangerous shade of red,

"I do not have a duty and if I did, it would not be serving yours," Farren shot, "I go where I please, I do what I please and I certainly do not have to know every tree! There are several thousand species that I have not even heard of,"

Thorin brought their faces close together, his hand fisting her cloak and his eyes raging with fire,

"If I could tie you to a pillar and leave without you, I would," he whispered severely, "But you are here for Bilbo and I do not want you leaving his side, understand?"

Farren wished she could slap him thrice around the cheek and spit in his face, but her hands were glued to her side and she was unable to move. All she could do was simply nod with a curled lip,

"Move on," Thorin announced loudly and the Company set off, the Hobbit and the Wanderer trailing behind with a sullen face.

* * *

They trekked for days, stopping when needed, gathering food when they sent Farren off to hunt. But she always had to bring Bilbo with her, remembering Thorin's almost-threat and the Hobbit was not as quick and agile as she was so when they returned to the temporary camp beneath a ledge or in a cave, the Company ate what little they could. Mostly the entire hunt, leaving Farren to gnaw on the bones and swallow the bitter fat whole, though she found it amusing that most of the energy was found in an animal's fat.

However, it had been three days since the Company had been able to eat a full roe buck or bear, simply snacking off the apples and stale bread that they had all packed in case of times like this. And obviously, Farren was hungry but she was used to going long periods without food and found no time to complain, for she was continuously stopping to help Bilbo to not slip off the edge of the particularly steep and ragged cliff face that they were scaling.

And it was raining.

_No, it's not raining_; Farren thought angrily to herself, flicking a piece of wet hair out of her eye, _it's a storm_.

The surface beneath her foot suddenly crumbled and she grabbed the first thing she could to stop herself from falling. It just so happened to be Fili's hair and he cried out as she struggled to get a good grip with her other hand on the face of the cliff. Though his cry was drowned out by the sound of deafening thunder that shot across the sky above them,

"Hold on!" she faintly heard Thorin bellow at her and she couldn't help but wish he was saying it out of concern, but that was highly unlikely, "We have to find shelter,"

Her ears heard a crack; her hands felt something shaking the cliff and her eyes looked up, the rain causing her to blink rapidly,

"Get back!" she shrieked, forcing Bilbo flat against the cliff as several enormous boulders narrowly missed the Company, hurtling down into the chasm below with gut wrenching crashes.

"This is no thunderstorm!" Balin shouted through the hail, "This is a thunder battle; look!"

Farren fought the urge to scream, her eyes widening in shock and excitement. There, right before her face, a gigantic figure of stone was peeling itself from the side of the mountain and advancing to where they were all stood, shaking against the wind.

"Well bless me," she heard Bofur gasp from beside her, "The legends are true then. Giants; Stone Giants,"

The giant rips a boulder the size of its head from the mountain and hurled it towards them; seemingly hitting something far above them and the ground shook violently. And then they were moving, well, half of the Company were.

The ground between Kili and Fili had split and they were drifting away from the face of the mountain. Farren heard Kili call out desperately for his brother, she saw Bilbo frightened face and his hand struggling to hold her arm, and then everything disappeared altogether. All she felt was the wind scratching at her face and the rocks piercing her skin, the rain seeking its way into the cuts; her ears were deafened by the roar of the Stone Giants, of rock and rock clashing together with great forces; her hands being ripped to shreds as she tried to grasp anything to keep her from falling.

Bilbo shrieked out her name and she felt someone slap her face several times, her eyes regaining focus and she saw the mountain speeding towards her, towards them. Farren curled herself around the Hobbit to protect him from any kind of collision and her ears burst as her back smashed into something hard and wet, the breath being blown out of her chest in a scream. And then she felt as though she were floating.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

**_She saved our souls_**

Bilbo could only watch with mourn as Kili and Thorin pulled Farren up and over the edge with ease, as if she were as light as a feather. She had saved him. She had been prepared to die or be fatally injured for his safety. He was still shaking with fright from the collision and could hear nothing but the howling wind and Thorin arguing angrily with Farren, his protector,

"WHY DID YOU RISK YOUR LIFE? FOR THE HOBBIT!" the king bellowed, his chest heaving and his cheek speckled with blood, though not his own,

"HIS NAME IS BILBO AND I SAVED HIM BECAUSE IT'S MY DUTY TO!" she shrieked back, tearing a piece of her cloak and dabbed her bleeding head, the side of her face and her neck were dyed a ruby colour, "I WOULD HAVE DONE THE SAME FOR ANY OF YOU!"

Thorin could not reply to her, instead simply thinking of how guilty he would feel if she were to die in his place. Then he flashed back to the battle of Erebor when he lost his dearest friend who had been determined to keep him alive, the guilt was still eating him away now.

"We could have lost him," she mumbled, drawing her cloak around her shoulders more tightly and bowing her head against the thundering wind,

"He's been lost ever since we left home!" Thorin snapped, "He should never come; he has no place among us,"

Bilbo felt his insides clench and he fought the urge to burst into tears.

* * *

Although Thorin had quite demandingly told them not to light fires as to not attract unwanted attention but Farren couldn't resist.

There was a tiny white orange flame dancing in the middle of her open palms, warming her skin and miraculously healing the deep wound above her right eye.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Her eyes were bright gold, and slitted like those of a snake which sent chills down Bilbo's back as he stared at her, shocked that she even heard him pass by. They made his knees weak and he leaned slightly on to his walking stick, yet he could not bring himself to ask her if she was a wizard, like Gandalf,

"Back to Rivendell," he sounded much more confident than he felt, tying his cloak tightly around his neck and hoisting his rucksack higher on to his back,

"No, no, you can't turn back now!" the flame disappeared when Farren leapt up in anguish, "You're part of the Company, you're one of us and if you leave, we will not succeed," Bilbo bowed his head and swallowed awkwardly.

"I'm not though, am I?" he paused to let out a breath of anger and rejection, "Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins, and I don't know what I was thinking. I should never have run out my door," his voice was dangerously quiet, firstly to not wake the others but also because of how angry he felt with himself.

Thorin was right, he always has been and Bilbo should never had left. He could be at home, sitting with his feet up, warming them against a roaring fire and eating the roasted mackerel he never got to try. He could be safe right now.

"I understand; you're homesick," Farren mumbled sadly and Bilbo puffed out in annoyance, his face flushing,

"No, no you don't understand," he pointed his finger at her, "You're a Wanderer, whatever that is, and you're used to this – this life; living on the road, never settling anywhere, never belonging to one place!"

Her eyes flashed gold again and the cave suddenly became very cold, "I'm sorry…I -?"

"No, don't be sorry," Farren hissed although she hardly looked angry enough to make it convincible, "I chose this life, a life of isolation because I didn't belong anywhere but you know what Mr Baggins?"

He could not answer for there were tears in her eyes and her bottom lip was quivering slightly,

"I am as scared as you, if not even more so," she sat back down on the ground in defeat, "I do not know these parts and I do not have the knowledge of what we are up against. I swore to protect you and because I do not know anything; that is what I am afraid of,"

She was vulnerable, and it seemed that she hardly ever felt it or showed it to another.

Someone stirred in the cave and stillness came over Farren, her hands kneading her eyes and she cleared her throat cautiously. Bilbo noticed that her now dry and bright green eyes were directed at his hip, where his sword lay. It was glowing.

"UP! GET UP NOW!" there was a sudden shout from beside them instantly roused the Company. It had beenThorin and Bilbo figured that was the reason why Farren had 'cheered up'.

Of course she didn't want the one creature who hated her most to see her in such a discomforted state of anxiety, but Bilbo noticed the way the dwarf now looked at her – it was different to that of the other times.

Not anger.

Not frustration or annoyance.

Not even irritation

He saw sympathy in the eyes of the king, and large cracks in the floor which seemed to swallow each dwarf one by one, until Farren was only left, staring at the black and now empty cave.

And for the second time that night, Farren found herself floating with her eyes stinging.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN  
**

**_Her Own Adventure  
_**

Farren opened her eyes suddenly, hearing ear bursting shouting and foreign swearing, and she struggled to her feet but seeing no-one. Her sword was in her hand and she found herself in what seemed to be a giant wooden cage, fashioned like an open hand. However, she was alone and the dwarves where know where to be found.

"Bilbo!" she tried to whisper but her voice echoed all around the cavern, ricocheting off pointed rocks and shadowed crevasses. She cringed at the reverberating sounds, so loud it may have well been a shout. Farren abandoned her vocal search and placed her sword back into its sheath, wincing as her shoulder gave a particularly nasty throb.

She was surprised as she climbed carefully from the wooden trap, that no one heard or saw her. In fact, there was no creature that she could see for meters, not even a stray fly. It was as if this cavern was abandoned. But of course, no creature was stupid enough to leave a dwelling as rich as this alone and Farren wondered, as she crept silently over rickety bridges and along ledges that gave way to endless chasms of blackness, what living thing would want to live in such a filty place?

_Ah,_ she thought as she peered over a particularly steep ledge, _Goblins_. About eight hundred meters below her was what looked like a congregation of writhing ants surrounding a larger flesh coloured wobbling thing that had bellowed something so loudly, that even Farren had to cover her ears.

"Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off his head!"

She growled menacingly, forgetting all about Bilbo and her vow to protect him, drawing her sword and attempting to find a way to get down to her Company.

But that was short lived, because no sooner as she raised her sword, a flush of heat rippled through her body and there was a high pitched scream that nearly burst her ear drums. Then there were small naked goblins racing towards her at all sides, shrieking for their king and for her blood to be spilt…

Her body was thrown backwards against the cliff by an unimaginable force that shattered the rocks above and below her, causing the goblins to slip of the edge or thrown themselves to the floor with their scaly hands over their ears. The wind had been knocked out of her and she struggled for breath, her eyes watering slightly and her mouth wide open with a silent scream. But she lunged forward anyhow, her body flying through the shadowous air like an arrow, straight and true towards where she thought her Company were.

But they were not. Farren's hands flew up to grasp a rogue rope that was suspended in front of her. Her shoulders were nearly ripped out of their sockets as she steadied herself on the fraying rope, swaying to and fro at a dizzying height. Her Company were nowhere to be seen, and there were no goblins either. She had been sure that they had been standing just below her on a wooden platform.

"SCUM! BETRAYOR OF YOUR RACE!" came several screeches from above her and her eyes darted upwards, spotting at least twenty measly goblins sliding messily down her rope in order to slay her with their slime covered weapons.

With a flash of blue, the rope was cut and again, Farren was flying through the humid air, towards the bottomless chasm below. She heard the cries of goblins all around her, trying to jump after her to catch her but failing, instead falling to their deaths.

Her eyes became dry and she was forced to blink quickly, salty tears flying off her cheeks and her hair being pulled by the stench ridden wind that slapped her in the face as she gathered speed.

There was the ground - at least thirty feet from her face and looming ever closer, spinning as the scenes around her got darker and darker the lower she flew. But in-between her and the ground were several goblin infested bridges that were seemingly oblivious to the woman plummeting towards them. Her body turned sharply, her arms shielding her face as she crashed heavily into the first wooden structure; the noise thundering around her and her back ached like someone had whipped her hundreds of times.

The pain only got worse as she shattered through three more platforms, though her skin was not punctured; only scrapped by the angered goblins that attempted to grasp her body as she fell.

Her body met the ground so fast that she didn't even register it, only coming to her senses when her lungs nearly burst from the lack of oxygen. Her head was pounding from the impact and she felt sick as she struggled to stand, her vision spinning and she veered off to the side, stumbling over a rather sharp rock.

Retching slightly, she sat back on her heels and massaged her temples, willing the nausea away. Then realising that her sword was still in her hand and that she was still being pursued by hundreds of goblins, Farren stood and sped off, her feet dragging and nearly causing her to trip several times. She brandished her sword blindly in front of her, cutting down goblins left, right and centre, her eyes focussed on the chink of light only a few yards ahead. The thought of freedom spurred her on, her head clearing from the smog from her landing and she expertly leapt on to a rock, somersaulting through the air and slicing through the necks of the four goblins that stood between her and her exit.

"_Vade!_," her voice thundered, her free hand flying out against the oncoming creatures and they were thrown back violently, scattering from the invisible wind that was shunting them back like ants.

Farren launched herself through the hole that was smaller than she anticipated, scrapping her shoulder and knee against the rock. Her fist struck the rock, "_E__tcadentadipiscing_," she said and the hole she had come through fell apart, the goblins being sealed in and the danger closed away for the time being.

Flinging her sword to the side, she lay on her back, simply breathing in the crisp and cool air, letting the breeze wash over her bruised skin like a wave.

"Farren Mirkwood!" an elderly and cleared irritated voice called out, "And where have you been?"

"Oh, you would not want to know what horrors I have seen this past hour," she replied breathlessly, smiling and sitting up, facing the group of grinning dwarves, a breathless Hobbit and a relieved Wizard.

Even Thorin was smiling.

He was glad that she was alive.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

**_Their realisation_**

Gandalf had sensed something, as had Farren but she had seen them before he had. His senses merely noted how negatively the aura around them had changed and he turned his head towards the Wanderer, who was staring with crinkled eyes up towards the top of the mountains.

There was a blood-curdling howl that caused the Company to stop dead and look to where they had originated from. Farren jumped up and grabbed her sword, standing in front of the Hobbit in a protective stance,

"Out of the frying pan…," Thorin murmured seriously, squaring his shoulders,

"And into the frying pan," Gandalf finished, fisting Farren's hood and forcing her in front of him, pushing her forcefully down the mountain, "Run! RUN!" he bellowed, following Farren who kept looking behind her carelessly and swearing in a tongue unknown to Thorin, obviously trying to double back to retrieve Bilbo, who was falling behind.

"THORIN!" someone shouted from behind and he turned to his right, slicing the stomach of a leaping Warg that had caught up with them. There were several, shadows flying through the night and up in front to where Farren was breathlessly cutting them down like she was dancing,

"Up into the trees, all of you!" she shouted, gracefully bounding on to a rock and swinging herself up into a tall pine tree, "Come on Bilbo! Climb!" the Hobbit had bravely fought off a Warg that had decided that he was worthy prey, stabbing it in the head but proceeding to being unable to wrench his sword out of the creature's skull,

"They're coming!" Thorin said fearfully from above him and Bilbo set into a panic, spotting several more Wargs approaching. With his chest heaving and his hands sweating, he ripped his sword from the Warg and leapt nimbly up into a tree. He felt hot breath on the bottom of his feet and two strong hands suddenly wrapped around his arms and hoisted him up further away from the snapping jaws below, his eyes swivelling to see Farren staring ahead of her with a horror that he had never seen before.

"Azog?!" she whispered at the same time Thorin did, placing Bilbo on a branch next to her and clenching her hands into fists,

"Do you smell it? The scent of fear?" the pale monster that sat upon a pure white Warg was one of a nightmare, with a bald head, scarred torso and a metal hand clutched his Warg protectively, "I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain,"

"It cannot be," the king said in horror, his face showing pain in realising that the Orc had his father as captive and Farren felt a burst of pity, wanting to protect him from the thoughts that were going through his head right at that moment, going through scenes of torture and suffering that he feared his father was being put through.

"That one is mine!" the pale orc shouted, pointing at Thorin with a metallic finger, "Kill the others!"

At his command, his filthy pets began their desperate attempt to climb the trees that the Company were struggling to hold on to. Farren tried swinging her sword to kill the Warg, but the tip barely brushed a nose, angering the Wargs even more.

"Drink their blood!" Azog called out sweetly, his tongue rolling and his lips smiling like he had blood already in his mouth.

Farren felt the tree she was perched in give a sudden lurch, the roots beginning to groan with the weight of the Wargs, her body swaying precariously and she clutched Bilbo's jacket, preparing to jump – but the sharp jerk that came next she was not prepared for and she shunted Bilbo and Fili into the next tree, only just grasping a thin branch with her fingertips in time.

She did not scream as something sank its teeth into her ankle, spit soaking into her clothes,

"_Pelli meæ, et veneni,"_ (my skin will poison) she said through gritted teeth, kicking wildly below her and a pained whine relieved her leg of the clamp, the Warg falling back with a foaming mouth and yellowing eyes. Someone was calling her name in fear, several hands grabbing her clothes to get her out of the reach of the Wargs who were furious at the sudden and mysterious death of their pack mate,

"You are hurt!" it was Thorin holding his hand to the dark red patch on her calf,

"I will heal quickly," she said quietly, brushing him away with a small smile before spotting something that made her eyes widen in shock,

"Hold on!" she cried, feeling the tree wobble dangerously before tipping painfully slowly over a sea of darkness that was the valley below. Farren was thrown flat on her stomach as she held on to the trunk, feeling Thorin throw himself atop her body and create a protective cage with his arms, her gaze turning to see Ori's small fingers struggling to keep a firm hold on the suspended tree,

"Ah, oh no, no!" he cried out, terrified and his hands slipped, his small body falling a few feet but managing to grab onto the Dori's boot who exclaimed fearfully,

"Mister Gandalf!" the dwarf could not hold both his and Ori's weight up, and Farren saw him begin to tilt sideways, reaching out for something, anything to keep him up. This just so happened to be Gandalf's staff that he had swung down in an effort to save the two dwarves from plummeting to their deaths.

She felt the weight shift from her back and she twisted awkwardly around, leaning up and balancing on her elbows,

"Don't you dare!" she growled, watching Thorin thread his way through the flames that Gandalf had produced previously as to keep the Warg's at bay, he scooped up a rogue oak branch and pulled his sword from his side.

Azog opened his arms in mock welcome, a smug and death hungry look on his face. Thorin raised his shield and brandished his sword –

But the white Warg got to him first, swiping one massive paw at his chest and forcing his back to connect painfully with the ground.

Thorin stood quickly, panting and breathing deeply, not expecting a mace to collide with his face.

Farren winced and hide her eyes as he fell to the ground again, only to be picked up in the jaws of the Warg,

"Thorin! Nooo!" she heard Dwalin bellow from below her and she pulled herself up, balancing on one foot and gently but quickly weaving her way towards where Thorin now lay, a bloody mess and nearly unconscious,

"Bring me the dwarf's head," Azog cried in triumph, beckoning one of his Orcs forward and Thorin saw a flash of dirtied red, then the coolness of metal on the back of his neck as he lay numbly on the rocks upon which he had landed when the white Warg had thrown him carelessly to the side.

Farren hissed as she limped swiftly towards the fallen dwarf, raising her sword as the Orc raised his, ready to slice Thorin's head.

"Do not touch him!" she shrieked in Black Speech (the language that the Orc's spoke), bringing her sword into the chest of the foul creature, "Kill him, and I will kill you!" Farren kicked the Orc away and stood over Thorin protectively,

"Out of my way whore!" Azog replied harshly, waving two Wargs to attack her but they did not, remembering their pack brother being poisoned by simply touching her,

"You underestimate my power," she hissed, "You do not know who I am,"

"Farren, go back - ," Thorin spat blood on the ground, falling limp clutching her ankle,

"_Kulkodar Palay_," (Dragon filth) he snarled, "Farren Mirkwood, daughter of the Dragons," he implied, sliding off his pets back and unsheathing the most terrifying sword that Farren had ever seen, serrated at one edge and covered in what looked like rust but she was sure it was something much worse,

"You will not harm him while I live," she replied, feeling much braver than she looked and he raised his knife, a nightmare inducing snarl upon his face and Farren brought hers upwards to meet.

"Then you shall not live,"

There was an ear splitting clang and the caw of a thunderous bird.

And Farren saw the largest eagle that she had ever encountered pick up Thorin gently in its yellow talons, call commandingly to her and fly off.

She seemed to understand it for a moment, bringing her knee up into Azog's stomach and the running away, off the edge of the mountain and on to the back of the eagle that had soared beneath her. She landed on a soft pillow though she struggled to get a firm hold because the feathers were so slippery, but her knees found a nook behind its wings and she settled, burying her face into its neck.

Then she heard the frustrated shrieks and cries of a defeated Azog.

Farren turned around, nursing her ankle and watching as many other giant birds swooped and tore at the Wargs and the Orcs, catching up to hers with dwarves and Bilbo on their backs.

And she looked down, spotting Thorin's limp hand swinging in the breeze, still clutching his sword.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
**

**_The Mountain  
_**

Riding the giant eagle was similar to being on the back of Abe, and she felt a pang of longing for her companion and of Rivendell where she felt like she belonged. This bird as smoother and it felt like she as lying on a silk bed that was being gently lulled by the sweet waves of the sea.

But the adrenaline that she received while speeding through the trees away from angry traders and disappointed wealthy men, on Abe's back while he whinnied with happiness; it was addictive.

Farren barely saw the breath-taking landscape that she passed, focussing purely on healing her wound and worrying about Thorin. His hand had been the only thing that she could see below, still holding his sword with white and bloody fingers.

She had felt a pang of something that she had never felt before, when the dwarf was struck for the first time by the Warg and it had painfully burned in her chest like a fire was spreading from her heart, which had been the reason why she had defended him and risked her life. She knew that it wasn't love, for she had felt that more than once in her life and it was painful, yes; but this was something that had caused her to cry out.

She felt it again now, looking down at his hand for the fourth time. That fire warming her heart and her lungs, like she was breathing in the rays of the sun. Her cheeks flushed and she puffed out a long breath, not feeling the cool winds against her face.

The eagle began to descend gently, directing itself towards what looked like a large bear shaped rock that stood tall against the carpet of red forest. The sky as a milky red, for the sun was dawning and the shadows where elongating, making the rock seem grander and bigger as Farren swung her legs over the eagle's neck, sliding off too quickly for her liking and landing heavily on her feet.

She stumbled, crying out at the pain that wracked through her right leg, falling against someone.

But she did not care who it as who caught her, she needed to get to Thorin, she needed to heal him for it was her duty.

He was a sorry sight, lying on his back with his eyes closed and her chest rising and falling slowly, blood seeping from a wound on his forehead. His hair was matted and bloody, his skin gaunt and pale like he was almost dead.

Farren crawled towards him cautiously, like if she made any sudden movement, he would wake.

"_F__rater,_" (My brother) she began quietly, her hand coming to rest over his eyes, "_Et__somno expergisci a vulneribus tuis sanabo te, et suscitemus eum, male te a tuis__,_" (I wake you from your slumber and heal your wounds, I release you from this curse and rouse your soul) As she was saying this spell, a wave of coldness washed over the dwarves, Bilbo and Gandalf and they felt her presence turn into something greater, as if they were standing next to someone truly powerful.

Then Thorin gave a shuddering breath and he opened his eyes, looking around wildly and seeing if all his companions made it to safety. His gaze landed on Farren, grey meeting gold and he managed a weak smile, lifting a hand to caress her jaw,

"I am sorry I doubted you," he said with a gritty voice and Farren leaned slightly into his hand, closing her eyes and savouring the earthy smell that invaded her nostrils,

"There is no need to apologize Thorin, I did what I did to save you," she replied almost silently, "We cannot go on without you,"

They smiled at each other for a moment longer before Farren noticed that his eyes were directed at something behind her, far in the distance.

"Is that -?" Bilbo asked excitedly and Farren stood quickly, precariously balancing on one leg. She felt Thorin wobble beside her, the cut on his head now merely a purple scar but her gaze was on the sight ahead of her.

There, framed perfectly against the rising sun, its silhouette spreading a blanket of coolness around; was Erebor.

"The Lonely Mountain," she breathed, "The last of the great dwarf kingdoms in Middle-Earth,"

"Our home," the king said in relief, his shoulders relaxing and he placed an arm over Balin's shoulders.

"Look!" Oin suddenly said cheerfully as a small bird flutter in their eye line, "The ravens are returning to the mountain!"

"Oh no, that my dear Oin," Gandalf chuckled kindly, leaning on his staff, "that is a thrush,"

"But we will take it as a sign," Thorin commented with a smile, "A good omen,"

"You're right," Bilbo breathed out, feeling a strong hand grip his shoulder, "I do believe that the worst is behind us," he looked up and saw Farren looking dreamily into the distance.


	14. Chapter 14

**This chapter, like the first scene in 'The Desolation of Smaug' is a flashback into Farren's life. :)**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN  
**

**_The attack_**

Farren had been only a youngling when she received the news that the people of her bloodline were being murdered brutally one by one. And her brother had been one of them.

At aged just seventy two, the weight of defending her frail parents and her name.

"My child, you have not finished your training!" her father told her quietly, before the attack, before she was to take a perimeter check around the estate, "You cannot call for help if you should fall into danger,"

"I have my weapons father," she snapped, her voice high and dainty like a princess, "Alvar bestowed your safety upon me and I intend to see that you live to a grand old age,"

"Just don't make the foolish mistake that I did when I lost my father," he sighed defeated and he sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and waiting for his daughter to sit at his feet like she used to and ask what mistake he made.

Then he would tell the tearful tale of how he had ensured his own father that the sword that the twenty year old had made had been able to defeat any enemy, and being the kindly father he was, Dalfazar the Great took the sword into battle and it shattered within minutes, leaving him weapon-less.

It was his fault that his father had died in that glorious battle, it was his fault that his beautiful daughter did not know the famous dragon tamer who changed history, and it was his fault that she did not have a grandfather.

"I will return before midnight," Farren uttered sadly, standing in the doorway and she stooped to pick up her bow and arrows, and her boots.

It had been the most pleasant night of _M__edium __E__nim __A__estatis_ (midsummer) so far and Farren regretted wearing a thick kirtle, fanning herself as she trudged around the perimeter of her family's land, searching and checking for danger that could potentially threaten her family.

Of course, she was not alone. Several of her father's guardsmen had accompanied her, as they did on every check because quite frankly, it would take one person at least one whole night to secure the premises and if one were to fall into some sort of danger, or find a threat; they would have no one to call upon to help.

So four men had volunteered, all in hopes of saving the lord's daughter from something terrible and winning her heart. All were wasting their time; it was too soon for a woman of her age to wed.

It was too soon for a woman of her age to be bestowed with the safety of her family.

_Do not think about Alvar_, Farren scolded herself, pulling a arrow from her quiver and placing it into her bow, _he is none of your concern_.

She looked to her right suddenly, her ears picking up a faint crackling and the sound of someone screaming.

She saw fire. It was burning the trees.

She felt heat all over her skin. She smelt blood in the breeze.

Her heart lurched and she ran, towards where the fire was raging into the sky. Smoke billowed into her eyes and she cried out, wafting her hands in front of her to clear a straight path towards where the night was burning.

Her home, her brothers, her people; their souls were screaming into the sky. People were running, crying, bleeding, burning.

Farren could not breath, the smoke was too thick and she could barely see, her eyes watering and creating clean rivers exposing her cheeks beneath the mud.

_Patrem Meum_

My father.

_Mater Mea_

My mother.

Someone was holding her tightly, around the waist and she screeched mercilessly, ordering the captor to let go.

But they did not.

"_P__rimiparentesmori_," (Your parents were the first to die) a calming voice sobbed into her ear, "_Non adjuvant quenquam_," (You cannot help anyone) but Farren still struggled, throwing her bow down and attempting to break her captors wrist.

"My people!" she shrieked hysterically, "How they perish! My home burns Maeve, let me go!"

She could not look at her home smoking auburn, she tried to block out the servants wailing in peril, the thundering of footmen and guards trying to control the fire,

"Farren, my lady," the guard had no time to bow and she hissed at her maid, who had tightened her grip, "We cannot control the blaze, if fear that it will consume the whole of the estate,"

"Let it," she hissed, "Let it take what it wants, I shall not stop it," and she puffed out a pitiful sob that nearly broke Maeve's heart, "I am of no help,"

The cage she was trapped in softened and the silk surrounding her torso lessened until the small woman with white hair stood afore her with tearful eyes,

"_Farren fallor, si ignis est, non omnes combureret_," (I was wrong Farren, if the fire burns on, then we shall all burn) Maeve said over the noise of peril.

And with tears blotching her skin, Farren lifted her head with her eyes glowing gold,

"_Tantamvirtutemignisin animam meam_," (I bestow the power of the fire upon my soul) she uttered with a raw throat, her voice powerful and grand.

The heat lessened, the roaring silenced, the orange turned to black, the smoke turned to rain and the terror turned to relief.

Farren sobbed once, and crumbled to the floor, her skin pale and her eyes glazed.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN  
**

**_The beast is our host  
_**

She wasn't as hesitant about letting Bilbo go up to spy on the Orc pack that was pursuing them, having heard his tale about him defending himself against a particularly nasty goblin. But she still argued extensively with Gandalf about letting him go on to the rocky outcrop alone, with who knows what dreadful beasts out there,

"I believe that he has found his courage Farren, there is no need to worry," he soothed her, ten minutes after Bilbo had climbed rather shakily and dangerously up a steep hill to perch on higher ground to watch where the pack was,

"I believe that too, however I doubt his skills with a sword," she said anxiously, her own sword clutched in her sweaty palms, "You saw him, he can hardly hold the thing,"

"That is why he has you," Thorin put in quietly and Gandalf raised a triumphant eyebrow at her, causing her shoulders to square and her arms to fold across her chest.

* * *

"Bilbo!" she heard a whispered shout and she roused from her highly uncomfortable spot on a moss covered log, rubbing her eyes from sleep and crawling towards the ghostly pale Hobbit. He was shaking slightly, his mouth opening and closing aimlessly like he had seen something truly terrifying,

"How close is the pack?" Dwalin asked hurriedly and Bilbo instantly looked up,

"Too close," he replied wearily, "A couple of leagues, no more, but that is not the worst of it,"

"Have the Warg's picked up our scent?" Dwalin asked again, diligently as if any answer that Bilbo gave would set him off into a fit of rage,

"No, not yet but they will," Bilbo paused and looked over his shoulder, "We have another problem,"

Farren slapped her hand to her forehead,

"Did they see you?" she asked hysterically, although still whispering and when he failed to answer straight away, she let out a small moan, "Oh, they saw you! Are they coming here?"

"No, that's not it," he said with furrowed brows and a puzzled expression,

"What did I tell you?" Gandalf told Farren and the rest of the Company with a smug grin, "Quiet as a mouse, excellent burglar material," and even Farren managed a shaky laugh, patting Bilbo appreciatively on the shoulder,

"Will you listen – will you just listen?" he sounded exasperated and he turned away from Farren irritated that even she wouldn't hear him out, "I'm saying that there is _something_ else out there,"

The mood changed immediately; Farren narrowing her eyes at Gandalf, the wizard himself glancing around quickly and very worriedly, and the dwarves all looked mildly uneasy, each drawing their weapons,

"What form did it take?" Gandalf demanded, "Like a bear?"

"Ye-yes," Bilbo's forehead crinkled in curiosity, "Yes, but bigger, much bigger,"

"You knew about this beast?" Farren asked angrily but also interestedly, not arming herself like the others,

"I say we double back," Gandalf stood and walked several steps away from the group, causing the rest to stand either in fright, anger or irritation,

"And be run down by a pack of Orc's?" Thorin growled, his eyes raging,

"There is a house, not far from here, where we might take refuge," Gandalf replied nervously, still looking around him into the night,

"Whose house? A friend or a foe?" the dwarf king retaliated, striding up next to Gandalf,

"Neither; he will help us, or he will kill us," he said, causing a wave of nervous muttering behind him, issuing from the dwarves and the Hobbit,

"What choice do we have?" Farren asked with a sigh, still clutching Bilbo's shoulder in an iron grip that grew tighter as a stomach churning roar echoed through the trees, from behind the Company,

"None," Gandalf replied before leaping off the rocky outcrop and shouting for the others to follow him. Farren broke out into a sprint, too fast for Bilbo to keep up with and he stumbled every few feet, tripping on an unexpected log or thorn bush. She called out to him as his pace slowed, their hands falling apart and Bilbo falling face first into a pile of leaves.

"Come on!" she heard Gandalf bellow far ahead and she hoisted the Hobbit from the mucky ground, on to her back, unintentionally looking back the way they had come.

Farren screamed as a pair of giant orange eyes grew ever closer, the black shape that they belonged to was slicing through bracken and streams, leaping with thunderous paws over fallen trees.

She too began her smooth path through the forest with Bilbo on her back; jumping gracefully like a deer over streams and through puddles, doging trees like they were people in a busy market, drawing out a straight line ahead of her and spotting Bofur's retreating back through the thinning trees.

There…there was the house that Gandalf had described, at the end of the vast field that lay in front of her. The field that her friends were gesturing wildly for her to cross, all shouting her name and for her to hurry up; and she did. Her breath came out in short, hoarse pants, her chest heaving and her lungs bursting but her legs still carried on, directing her towards where the dwarves were piled high against a closed gate, all trying to wrench it open,

"_Aperio_," she swiped her hand in a downwards motion and the wooden gate snapped agape, as if it had been pushed by a very strong wind.

"Farren! Quickly now my girl!" Gandalf bellowed, his hand wrapping around her outstretched fingers and pulling her from the jaws of the perpetrating beast.

She lay on the ground for several silent minutes, her arm over her eyes and her heart thumping.

She had not felt adrenalin like that for many months, and she missed it; she missed the feeling of danger on just being able to touch the ends of her hair as she swept through the trees, cutting down enemies and surviving on river water and ale for days on end.

"What – what was that?" she asked in-between violent intakes of breath,

"That… is our host," Gandalf replied drearily and Farren emitted a low grunt, causing Bilbo to chuckle quietly, still holding his sword, now named Sting.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER THREE**

**_Into the Wild_**

No one dared to wake Farren the next morning; for fear that she would impale them with her sword. She had been up keeping watch for most of the night, clutching her weapon so tightly that her knuckles had turned white and only when Bilbo prod her knee to tell her to sleep, did she lay her head and close her weary eyes.

Gandalf watched her now, still sleeping peacefully in a nest of hay with her arms tucked beneath her chest and her cloak thrown precariously over her back. She looked so young, so innocent and her cheeks were as rosy as they were when the two had first met,

Ah, it was all still so vivid. Gandalf closed his eyes dreamily, conjuring up the memory that was tucked very safety away within his grand old mind…

* * *

_"__Will you teach me magic Mr Gandalf, sir?" the tiny ten year old asked him excitedly in a high pitched voice, so sweet that the younger wizard smiled widely,_

_"__Perhaps when you are older my dear," he promised but waved his hands, darkening the candles that lit the room and small blinking lights appeared all around them. Farren shrieked with happiness, leaping from Gandalf's side and began to gaily dance in-between the lights. _

_"__Sing for me please sir," she begged him, placing her small and perfect hands over his with a pleading smile and twinkling eyes._

_Gandalf pretended to think hard about his decision – only to playfully frustrate poor Farren,_

_"__North montem viscéribus ," he sang the first line and Farren squealed, bounding away to dance,_

_"T__ales habitant, et reptilibus, et in morem parturientium  
dormientes vocentur frequentet domino  
et cum secat cantet, neque evigilare dracones  
latet sub rupibus ignis qui terroribus Aquilo  
et equite forti, protegat, defendat audias rector,"_

_(Deep within the mount of the North_

_such creatures dwell and crawl and writhe_

_are called by their master to haunt the sleeping_

_and when the lark sings, do the dragons wake_

_to ignite those terrors that lurk beneath the rocks of the North_

_and their riders protect, defend and rule the sky and sea)_

* * *

He hummed the tune of that song as he sipped his drink, relishing in the few memories that they had together before the dreadful attack occurred and the tamer-to-be changed paths.

"What are you singing Gandalf?" Bilbo asked him, nibbling on a piece of grey bread and the wizard sighed deeply,

"Just an age old story," he replied sincerely, watching as Farren's limbs began to twitch as she woke herself up. Sitting up, she yawned widely and scrubbed at her eyes, rubbing the sleep from them and smiling subconsciously.

But that smile vanished when her eyes were directed above her, into the face of the largest and hair laden man she had ever seen. His eyes were the same as the glowing amber ones she had seen last night and his face was scratched, as if he had been in many fights,

"You are hungry?" he asked her gruffly although his voice seemed to calm Farren's nerves, her frightened gaze switching back and forth between Gandalf and the giant man before her. He was handing her a plate of bread dipped in milk and honey, a delicacy that only a few enjoyed.

"You are the skin changer from last night," she commented, licking the dripping honey from the bread before taking a large bite. The man nodded and straightened up to his full height, looking down upon Farren as though she was a measly little rabbit.

"I am Beorn," he said, extending a hand out and tugging Farren from her bed of hay, "And you are the one they call Thorin Oakenshield," Beorn joined the rest at a massive, scrubbed wooden table groaning under the weight of many breakfast items. He gestured for Farren to sit in the empty seat next to Bilbo, who greeted her enthusiastically and Gandalf reached across the table to pat her clasped hands. The rest of the dwarves merely grunted, all too tired to talk,

"Tell me," Beorn continued, "Why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"

Thorin was stood too, near a cavernous fireplace with his fur cape already wrapped around his shoulders ready to leave at any point,

"You know of Azog? How?" he asked with shock written all over his features and Beorn's lips thinned, the veins in his neck straining ever so slightly,

"My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the Orcs came down from the north," he explained with an air of blood red anger, "The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved,"

There was a silence, only broken by Killi noisily clanging his cup down on to the table,

"Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him," Beorn continued and Bilbo nervously jigged his foot,

"There are others like you?" the Hobbit asked wearily,

"Once, there were many," was the gruff reply,

"And now?"

"There is only one," there was another silence, this time tense and Farren felt another weight bare down on her shoulders, to avenge Beorn's race, "You need to get to the mountain before autumn falls?"

"Before Durin's Day, yes," Farren explained, pushing her now empty plate away from her and filling her cup with water,

"You are running out of time," Beorn muttered, standing perfectly still,

"Which is why we need to go through Mirkwood," Gandalf interrupted and Farren stood abruptly, starting Bilbo who knocked his knee on the underside of the table,

"A darkness lies upon that forest. Fell things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in great need," Beorn took no notice of Farren and she clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms,

"I know of Mirkwood," she said hastily, "Although the elven road will lead us, we cannot be sure that it is still connected,"

"It's settled then," Gandalf concluded, ever so sure of himself,

"I wouldn't be so sure my lady," Beorn growled, "These lands are crawling with Orcs, their numbers are growing and you are only on foot. You will never reach the forest alive," he turned to Thorin, who was still leaning near the fireplace now with his arms crossed in irritation,

"I don't like dwarves," the skin-changer uttered dangerously, "they are greedy and blind, bling to the lives deemed lesser than their own,"

Farren held her breath as the great man reached to the table, gently plucking a small white mouse that had been burrowing through the bread between his fingers,

"But Orcs I hate more," Beorn concluded proudly, "What do you need?"


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

**_Mirkwood_**

"And he never found out about it because his nasty little pets that had been tailing me, they all lost themselves within the deep labyrinth of Mirkwood," Farren had been telling Bilbo the tale of when several of a greedy king's fellow soldiers had crossed Farren and Abe's path, and they had spent a good couple of days being chased like a goose.

"Is it likely that they are still there?" Bilbo said nervously, pulling on the reins of his pony, stopping it from swerving away from the pack,

"Of course not, this occurred about two hundred years ago," Farren chuckled, "They are long gone," she assured him, raising her head to quickly check where they were.

There it was. Like a black sea stretching out as far as the eye could see, with several mountains and other shadowous shapes looming out of the middle. Mirkwood; the darkest forest in all of Middle-Earth, and the only place on this side of the Misty Mountains that Farren knew of. She felt like it was calling her, like something very strong had reached into her gut and was whispering in her ear, wanting her to come closer.

Digging her heels into her pony's shoulders, she set off in a quick trot, past the rest of the Company and far up ahead. The wind became wilder as she picked up speed, her hair blowing back and her cloak flapping loudly against her back. She was galloping at full pelt now, her eyes wide and watering against the breeze, her lips open and sucking in harsh breaths as if she had been running for hours.

"FARREN!" she faintly heard a bellow from behind her and she was sure that she felt someone try to grab on to her cloak, "STOP!" she heard the shout again and she blinked rapidly, straining on her panting pony's reins,

"Gandalf," she puffed out as the wizard came up next to her, "I don't – I'm so sorry – I - ?"

"Come here my girl," he soothed calmly, tugging her off her pony and into his arms, embracing her tightly, "I must warn you, do not venture near Dol Guldur,"

"Why?" Farren asked breathlessly, wiping her head of a cold sweat that had appeared,

"There is dark magic there that will tempt you and will play with your mind," Gandalf uttered in her ear, releasing her shoulders, "You have to be careful,"

"Yes," was her simple, nervous reply and she turned back towards her oncoming Company, and her concerned Hobbit,

"Farren," he said quietly, ungracefully sliding off his pony, "What happened back there? You sounded – mad,"

"I was just excited," she stuttered with a smile, "I haven't been to Mirkwood in two hundred years,"

"You've been here before?" Kili asked in surprise, distracting Farren from the uncomfortable tightening in her chest and she nodded,

"I was born within those very trees," Farren said, pointing ahead of her, into the dense undergrowth, "Those dark and poisoned trees? Gandalf, what happened here?"

"Is there another way around?" Bilbo asked nervously, "This forest feels sick…as if it has a disease laying on it,"

"Not unless you want to go two hundred miles north, or twice that distance south," Gandalf commented loudly, walking towards the edge of the forest and side stepping between two large oak trees.

Farren suddenly felt a presence appear, not around her but around Gandalf who stood in front of an ivy ridden stone font that had beautifully intricate carvings of men with spears and woman with bows. She approached him quietly, as to not disturb his suddenly shocked nature, the presence becoming stronger yet not alarming Farren. She had felt this presence before, at Rivendell when Elrond and Gandalf had left her to attend an important meeting with an elf she did not recognise.

_My name is Galadriel and you must do as Gandalf has said_, as misty and melodic voice filled her ears, and Farren stopping breathing for a moment, casting a wary eye around her for any unwanted visitors, _he will be leaving you and you must protect the Hobbit, and the Dwarves_.

She nodded, knowing fully well that the mysterious voice could not see her.

"No, don't let my horse go," Gandalf's alert tone shook her from her dream, "I need it!"

"You're not leaving us?" Bilbo said shakily, rapping his own pony smart on the rear, sending it galloping back the way that they had just ventured,

"I would not do this unless I had to," Gandalf muttered sadly, swinging himself up on his horse and sending Thorin a small glance,

"You've changed Bilbo Baggins," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "You're not the same Hobbit as the one who left The Shire,"

Bilbo cleared his throat, shuffling closer to the wizard's horse, "I was going to tell you; I found something in the Goblin Tunnels,"

"Found what?" Gandalf asked curiously, leaning forward and Bilbo slipped his hand into his pocket, fingering with the Ring nervously, hoping it would bring him the courage to be honest with Gandalf,

"I found my courage," and he removed his hand, letting it drop to his side and Gandalf straightened up with a proud smile,

"Good," he said, "Well, that's good, you'll need," and he urged his horse towards where Farren and Thorin stood, bickering about how well she knew the forest,

"I will be waiting for you on the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor," he told them loudly, causing Thorin to narrow his eyes at the wizard, "I leave you in Farren's hands, keep the map and the key safe," Farren jumped at the mention of her name and swallowed thickly, "Do not enter the mountain without me or Farren,"

Gandalf looked down at Thorin, his eyes stone hard and aiming the last sentence at him,

"This is not the Greenwood of old my dear," he turned to Farren, "The very air of the forest is thick with illusion, it will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray,"

She knew he meant what he had warned her about; about the dark temptation at Dol Guldur, that magic will lead only her astray.

"You must stay on the path; do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again," Farren glanced towards the entrance to the forest, a sprinkle of rain lightly dampening her clothes and she squinted, spotting something that she had not seen before.

"Farren, the path, we need to get to the mountain before Durin's day," Thorin placed a hands on her shoulder and she blinked a few times,

"Yes, Durin's Day," she stumbled over her words, "This way," she instructed, pushing forward and her feet struck something hard,

"The path?" Thorin muttered from behind her, "This our one chance to open the door," she hissed at his words, her body suddenly shivering as a wave of freezing cold breezed over her. Farren looked down and saw what she had seen earlier, the glowing red bricks of the Elven Path. With a smug smile, knowing that no one else could see the path, she beckoned the Company to follow her,

"You can see it I assume?" Thorin asked a little further on, not completely happy following Farren and she nodded,

"I was born in these trees," she explained airily, "I have Elven blood in my veins," and that seemed to settle the matter, and the two were silent from then on.

* * *

The Company followed Farren's every move, although not jumping as gracefully as she did over a fallen tree or sidestepping the bones of some sort of horse shapes creature.

"My head is spinning," came a groan from behind her and she sighed, rubbing at her chest that was tightening with every step she took forward,

"I need air," another voice murmured breathlessly and Farren, foolishly, looked back over her shoulder and chuckled at the hyperventilating dwarves.

"No," she had turned her head back, her toes handing over the edge of a steep cliff with sharp rocks and rouge roots at the bottom, "No, the path!"

"What's the matter?" came a worried shout and Farren's eyes cast about her desperately,

"The path is gone!" she cried shrilly, "It's disappeared!"

"Find it, all of you," Thorin bellowed, falling to his knees and brushing leaves away from the floor, "Look for the path!"

"I should be able to see it!" Farren was getting hysterical, searching furiously for that cold, red glow.

Haven't they been this way before? That tree certainly looks familiar, as does that boot print.

"I don't remember this place before," Dwalin muttered from the back, "None of this is familiar,"

"It's got to be here!" Dori replied, kicking at a stone in front of him,

"What hour is it?" Thorin asked and Balin squinted to the sky, but gave up when all he saw was thick foliage,

"I do not know," he sighed, "I do not even know what day it is,"

"Is there no end to this accursed place?" Thorin cried loudly and Farren yawned, and then started to cough thickly.

Someone thumped her on the back,

"You alright lass?" it was Fili and she nodded, swallowing another round of painful coughing,

"It's just the air," she assured him croakily, "It's heavy with disease that my lungs are having trouble with,"

But it was something else and it wasn't just her lungs that were struggling. Her whole body ached as if she had been sprinting for days, and that uncomfortable tug was still twisting in her gut, pulling her astray from the group and nearly away from Bilbo. He held her hand, pulling her along and worrying deeply about her and the odd groans coming from her lips as she tried to free herself from his grip.

Kili and Fili had noticed her irregular behaviour and had taken to trailing the pack, in case Farren tried to break loose. But her contact with Bilbo seemed to have an effect, their skin touching seemed to calm her and bring back some sanity to her mind.


End file.
